


Progress

by DragonflyxParodies



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Aggression, Friendship, Gen, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 04:20:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14845598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonflyxParodies/pseuds/DragonflyxParodies
Summary: Superboy isn't dealing well with what happened at Cadmus. Robin tries to help.





	Progress

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! If you're interested, I've decided to open commissions! If you like my writing and would like to see something specific or help support me, more information is available here (https://dragonflyxparodies.tumblr.com/post/174547437200/commissions)!
> 
> Enjoy :D

               It was simple things. Stove. Television. Electricity. Things he didn’t understand. Knew the words for, just…nothing else. Tree. Sun. Moon. Light. Wind. Salt. Water. Mountain. A collection of sounds and letters, no picture or image to tie to them. Not any he trusted, in any case. Not unless they came from his own experience.

He _knew_ , really knew, cold. He knew darkness. He knew the human body. Names for things on it, not what they did. But he knew what to break, what to snap and what to bruise to end it. Knew power, what it felt like, what it was. Knew satisfaction, of completing an objective, the soft hum of pleasure the G-Gnomes had sent fluttering through his mind at every accomplishment, every met order.

He knew what Superman was, his mannerisms and actions and powers, how to emulate them and how to use them. To replace him, to kill him.

He knew what slavery was. Subjugation. And with that, the idea of a certain kind of order. Animalistic order.

So that the small, tiny boy constantly demanded of him, ordered him—it was infuriating. He could _crush_ him without even _trying_ , and the boy just—

Superboy had no patience for him. No patience for any of them, how loud they were and how _close_ they were and—and after the green girl had—

He _refused_. He wouldn’t—he would _never_ go back to that, to Cadmus, to—

The hallway was too long, echoing their chatter like—like…

He didn’t know. This was what an echo was, of that he was certain. He wouldn’t have even needed his super hearing to catch it.

“You should go back to the kitchen.”

His head snapped up, gaze flying from the ground to the speaker.

Robin, sunglasses obscuring his eyes and sweater draped over his too-small frame. He was so _small_ , so _tiny_ , so _fragile—_

“Do _not_ tell me what to do.” He hissed out, the seething anger, the too-much of the day, boiling behind his words. And the boy didn’t even flinch.

“Miss M spent a lot of time on that. You’re gonna have to go back, if you don’t want her sulking during the next mission.”

And he shuddered, fingers twitching at his sides and he almost turned—

Robin hit the wall so hard that it shook, cracks spider-webbing their way up the wall behind him. He didn’t seem surprised, though he did wheeze for breath, hands pressing down hard on Superboy’s own, which were clenched so hard around the sharp bones of his hips that he could feel the boy bruising.

“ _Don’t order me!”_ It was so much louder, so much angrier than the fear racing through his veins felt. Showing weakness— _that_ was something he understood. Fear was weakness. Weakness was death.

_Show no fear_.

Anger…that was acceptable.

Robin shifted, suddenly, and Superboy very nearly slammed him into the wall again—because he was tiny and weak and fragile and _dangerous_ —

Hands clapped over his ears, gentle and very careful not to pinch anything. It threw him for a moment, the sudden distortion of his hearing. He could still hear everything he could before, it was just…muted.

Was that supposed to work? He was…he was supposed to be Superman. And his super hearing—

He didn’t know what Robin was trying to do, but he was still too confused by it to react, though he was aware that the potential danger of having the boy’s _anything_ so close to his head was substantial.

Robin’s gaze was direct, not wavering at all from his, and that helped still his thought, still his panic.

And after a very long moment, he registered the silence. The quiet in his head. Just his own calming anger, calming fear, calming panic. Nothing foreign, nothing outside, nothing telling him what to do or manipulating his thoughts. Just himself.

His gaze had fallen, locked somewhere just below Robin’s collarbone, and he looked up sharply, staring at the boy’s mirrored lenses steadily.

“It’s okay. You’re alright.”

And…he believed him. Could feel it, the—the _emptiness_ in his head. His own thoughts. His own mind. Because he knew what that was, the… _himself_. Uncontrolled, free. Cadmus hadn’t taught him that, but he knew it all the same.

“I’m sorry.” Robin added, softly, and those words confused him. They meant concession, submission, defeat—an admission of one’s weakness. And though the boy _was_ , he wasn’t, at the same time, and it didn’t…it didn’t make sense.

He didn’t put the boy down, but he pressed closer, resting his head on Robin’s shoulder and letting the boy curl his body around him in some strange sort of embrace.

He was shaking, now. Relieved, chilled at just how quickly his fear had sent him spiraling out of control, blinded him to the fact that _he was alone_. If he couldn’t tell if there _wasn’t_ someone in his head, how would he be able to tell if someone _was?_

“I don’t…I don’t mean to make it sound like you have to do things when I tell you to, okay? I just—I’ll work on that, alright? It’s…it’s just a Bat thing.”

He moved his head slightly, nodding in acknowledgement—that he’d heard Robin, anyway. Not that he understood.

There was just… _so much_. That he didn’t understand, didn’t now. That his Cadmus programming told him he _should_ know.

That _they_ told him he should know.

That was what had sent him fleeing from the kitchen in the first place.

“But, hey. No matter what the Bat thinks, we’re friends. So you’ll get through this. I’ll— _we’ll—_ help you in any way we can.”

“Why?” He asked, and then flinched inwardly when Robin let out one of his cackles. The sound was _chilling._

_Dangerous_.

“We’re friends.”

And he said it so _simply_. Though Superboy didn’t know what the word meant, not really, they’d been throwing it at him a lot.

Cadmus had never even taught him that it was a word. And though he distrusted everything he knew of the world through Cadmus’s eyes…he didn’t necessarily believe everything they told him, either.

Except for the warrior. The…Atlantean. Superboy trusted him. Mostly because he didn’t order him around, _ever_ , but partially because of the way he conducted himself. Even when Superboy had been fully able to murder him, he had been calm.

He flinched momentarily when something pressed against the top of his head, but after a moment he realized it was just Robin’s chin, and he relaxed.

Wondered if he should be worried about that, but…discarded the thought. Eventually.

“…Hey, Supey? You wanna move this into the living room? I’d like to be able to move tomorrow.”

With a start, he realized how tightly he was pressed against the boy, and he let out a grunt, slowly moving back and untangling himself.

Robin dropped to the ground soundlessly, though he stumbled and let out a hiss, rubbing at his hips.

A little late, Superboy realized the Atlantean was standing, arms folded curiously across his chest, only a few feet away.

“Are you alright?”

“Fine, fine. Just don’t tell Wally and we’re good. Or Batman. Never Batman.”

“I am sure he knows already, Robin.”

Robin let out a disgusted sigh.

The Atlantean studied the two of them for a long moment before turning and leading the way back down the hall.

Superboy just focused on his own breathing, the silence in his head – and when Robin curled up on the couch, Superboy lay down beside him and put his head in his lap.

The rest of the team traded startled looks, but no one said anything. That was good. He kept himself from looking at any of them, instead glaring at the blank television screen.

And then one of Robin’s hands settled over his ear again, smoothing stray strands of hair down, and Superboy _relaxed_.


End file.
